A contemporary encounter with the health service

About a month ago I found myself waking to some quite sharp abdominal pains, especially when sitting up to get out of bed. These felt more muscular than inflammatory but were concentrated around my right kidney area and didn't appear to be going away after a couple of days (my standard treatment for bodily ailments) so as a cautious old geezer I decided to seek medical assistance. Logging my malaise via my health service app I received a call from my doctor later in the day and, after some diagnostic Q&A, was invited to pop round to the health centre for a physical examination. After poking around at my midsection for a few minutes nothing serious was detected and I was advised to take it easy and see what ensued, not an unexpected prognosis but reassuring. As I was about to leave my doctor said she'd see if I could get an ultrasound scan 'just as an extra check'.

A couple of weeks passed, the pain receded, and I thought no more about it. And then out of the blue a text popped up notifying me of an ultrasound appointment, not at my local health centre but a hospital in Bath. There were some very specific preparations required - no food or drink (except water) for six hours beforehand and a requirement to arrive 'with a comfortably full bladder'. As the appointment was for midday this would mean a morning fast, something of a challenge for someone as set in their ways as I have become. But I marked it on my calendar and prepared for the journey.

First surprise was that the Sulis Hospital Bath was not in the town itself but in the delightfully named Peasedown St John, a village about 8km southwest. But it wasn't even in the village, the hospital was in a small business park just outside. A check on my phone's route planner showed a 15 minute train trip to Bath, 20 minute bus ride to the village, and a 15 minute walk to the hospital. The weather was forecast dry, my retirement means time is no longer a constrained resource, and I have a bus pass, so I planned the trip on public transport.

Buying my return train ticket to Bath was an immediate reminder of living in the future - an app on my phone let me plan the journey, pay the fare, and store the tickets on the phone itself. A humdrum operation today but it wasn't so long ago that this required a trip to the (hopefully open) station ticket office or grappling with the (hopefully working) ticket machine outside. Then keeping the small cardboard rectangles safe for inspection (& biro squiggles to indicate it) and egress at the destination, alongside my senior railcard to confirm my discount eligibility. Now it's all on the phone, to be scanned as required. As is my railcard.

Bath bus depot is right next to the railway station and was spacious, clean, & (mostly) straightforward to navigate. This again is a transformation from my early experiences of bus stations being (usually) dark, grimy, and confusing. There were two separate departure boards - one for the lower numbered stands and one for the higher, with no obvious way of telling how the services were divided between them - but I soon found the one I was after. There was some mild panic when the departure time went from 12 mins to 09:55 - when this happens on the trains it's often a harbinger of serious delays - but the bus opened for boarding with a few minutes to spare and soon I was seated & ready to go.

My memories of bus & coach services outside of towns had me more than a little apprehensive. I'd been used to rattling, noisy vehicles with grime-splattered windows, spending most of the journey trying to work out where I was and when I needed to push the stop button - particularly difficult when it was my first time on a new route. Instead the bus was clean & comfortable (and not too prone to lurching around corners), the windows gave clear views of the Somerset countryside, and the upcoming stops were both displayed and announced well in advance. I arrived in Peasedown St John on time and neither shaken nor stirred.

Solis Hospital reception

There was no indication of how to get to the hospital but, as usual, a few taps on my phone showed me a map of the area, traced a suggested route, and suggested I'd get there with time to spare. And so it was. A nice touch was that it led me along quiet pedestrian walkways & paths, not just along roads.

The hospital itself was a small, modern building, looking like a high-tech industrial unit and not too dissimilar from the Mercedes dealership next door. Without the (very understated) nameplate by the entrance you'd be hard pressed to identify it as a medical facility at all. Inside, the reception area was very swish, looking more like an upmarket hotel or corporate headquarters with none of the large department signs or staff in colourful scrubs that I'd expect in a hospital setting. At the reception desk I was given an admittance form with most of my details already in place, helped to fill in the few extra boxes required, and then told in which area to sit so I could be easily found when they were ready for me. And so I sat and read my book (on my iPad) while trying to ignore my (only just) comfortably full bladder.

Right on time (or just a little after) I was collected and led to an examination room. The ultrasound process itself was pretty much what I was expecting - lie down, roll up the shirt, a dash of cold gel, and a few minutes of being (fairly) gently prodded - although turning the lights down (presumably to make it easier to view the screen) added a bit of dramatic intensity to the examination. The two members of staff (I'm never quite sure what to call medical practitioners nowadays) were focussed & efficient but they did make me feel like a person rather than just a case and we managed to have a bit of a chat and a few laughs without derailing the smooth procedure. At the end, while I was swabbing gel off my torso with a think wodge of paper, the examiner said he had to pass the results to my doctor but he could tell me that he hadn't seen anything unusual, and as a bonus I definitely didn't have any kidney- or gallstones, always nice to hear. After a long-deferred visit to the toilet (ahhhhh!) I set off on my journey homeward, feeling more reassured than I was expecting. I'm starting to see visits to the health service as being akin to getting an MOT on an old car, there's always the expectation that something untoward will show up and getting a clean bill of health (as it were) feels like a blessing.

Arriving back at the village bus stop I was prepared for a long wait but the 'live times' indicator showed I only had twelve minutes before one would show up, and the next one was barely fifteen minutes after that. If I had no smartphone and the indicator was out of action I'd still have been well served by the clear and easy to read timetable posted in the shelter. The bus arrived as predicted, twenty minutes later I was in Bath, and maybe half an hour after that I was back home, in time for a splendid and much anticipated lunch! In truth the morning fast had been much less of a challenge than I'd anticipated (I'd missed my morning coffee more) but it was nice to return to familiar routine after an exotic excursion.

In fact the whole experience had been remarkably smooth and easy, I'd spent maybe three and a half hours between setting off & returning home and most of that had been sitting down (with a short interlude of lying down and being prodded). Given an extra hour I could have gotten to Bath & back by bus too, saving myself the train fare which was my only expense.

My main takeaway from all this is a reminder of how much 'daily life' has improved over the years. My interactions with the health service are now primarily through phone apps, letting me flag an issue or question and letting my (or at least a) doctor triage its urgency and get back to me when they can, which is usually within a day or so. The first consultation is usually done over the phone and there's normally the sense that there's time to explain things clearly, let me ask questions, and make sure that I'm OK with what's been discussed & agreed. Follow-up sessions are promptly arranged and everyone dealing with me has all my details & medical history. Travel (especially using public transport) is vastly improved with quick & easy access to real-time information, clean and well-equipped vehicles, and generally friendly & helpful staff. To say nothing of having my entire music collection and a good selection of books on hand in case I desire entertainment as I travel.

The world is not perfect (unless it is, but that's another topic) and these are purely my experiences & conclusions but I think it's important to step back and take a measure of how life has changed, judging it by personal experience rather than media zeitgeist. From my perspective I live in a cornucopia of delights which by far outweigh the tribulations of modern life. It's all good.

October 2025